24 Floors
by mo1ety
Summary: She was stunning, he recalled. There were many women, he deemed, just as stunning as the one before him, but she was different. It was always the way he described her when talking to Elijah. For a man with unlimited vocabulary, he found himself at loss for words. Klaroline AU.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Everything here, with the exception of major characters, names, businesses, places and events are mine unless otherwise stated. Any resemblance to any book, show or incident is purely coincidental.

* * *

Prologue

The first time he saw her was during one of his early morning jogs. He had just gotten back from his daily rounds at Central Park with his golden retriever when he noticed her talking to the grey-haired doorman of The Salvatore Hotel.

She was beautiful, her golden locks glowing under the striking sunlight that fell over New York City. He had silently laughed at her appreciation for the old man's cheesy jokes, wondering who in the world could ever find those bigoted one-liners humorous.

They had locked eyes when she heard him scoff, and he wasn't sure if she was on the verge of calling him off for eavesdropping and being rude, but the moment was gone as soon as they had looked at one another.

He didn't know what it was about her, but he already knew she was different. It made his heart leap out of his chest, the way her mesmerizing eyes connected with his lackluster ones and as she bent down and gave his pet a pat on the head before walking away had him instantaneously intrigued.

'She doesn't live here,' Greg answered him before he could ask.

He hid the disappointment and flashed the old man a smirk. 'I wasn't going to ask.'

The silver-haired man shook his head and opened the door for him, wishing both he and Will (his dog) a great day.

A year passed since he saw her again.

It was the night his company had finally made it worldwide. Mikaelson Enterprises was officially in Europe and South East Asia, and with it came the most beautiful woman on the market finally by his side. He was a little drunk after the party and so he always thought whether he had just imagined her on that elevator that night.

The stranger was shut out from the world; earphones in and eyes closed as she immersed herself into another world. It was only when he accidentally stumbled towards her did she look up and noticed his presence.

She was stunning, he recalled. There were many women, he deemed, just as stunning as the one before him, but she was different. It was always the way he described her when talking to Elijah about her. For a man with unlimited vocabulary, he felt inadequate.

She had smiled at him as she stepped out and he watched her leave just as soon as the gorgeous expression on her face faltered in nanoseconds.

The third, and the last time since, was when he spotted her at the end of the 24th floor in the Hotel. Her delicate pale hands were pressed against the floor to ceiling glass panel, and the only sound he could hear in the deserted hallway was her wrecked sobs.

'Hey,' he approached her carefully.

She turned around with a shock, trying to wipe away her tears harshly and get herself together. He found himself smiling sadly, to see such a broken sight of a young woman before him.

'How much do you think it would cost my family to replace this glass panel?' She laughed nervously, licking her lips.

Her voice trembled as she spoke and he realized at that moment that all he wanted to do was ignore the voice in his mind telling him his girlfriend was waiting for him and just wrap his arms around the blonde goddess that was shivering in front of him.

'You're not contemplating to commit suicide, are you?' He furrowed his brows.

She shrugged with a pathetic excuse of a smile. 'Nothing's really left for me here.'

He grabbed her shoulders forcefully, not caring whether he was crossing an invisible line. She may not have been someone he knew well, but no one deserved to think such thoughts. He himself had suffered a lot of things in the past, but not once to ever wish himself dead.

'Listen to me,' he began, ignoring the mobile phone vibrating in the pocket of his jeans. 'You don't want to die tonight.'

'Why not?' She laughed, tilting her head to the side and looking at him in amusement.

'I…' He sighed, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. 'Look, just take one more breath and clear your mind, okay? Every single moment in your life, no matter how you look at it now, is relevant.'

He didn't know what happened, how it happened, but in a split second, the sound of glass breaking and her small voice telling him thank you for trying mixed with one another and he watched, unable to do anything, as the angel before him flew into the bustling city, only to fall back down in the end.

* * *

Klaus' speech is from a song called 24 Floors by The Maine.

This story, and what will become of it is inspired by the song. Give it a listen and let me know what you think :-)


	2. First Floor

00:44 – First Floor

* * *

_Three years later_

He looked out the floor-to-ceiling glass panel of his office; feeling like he was hovering above the late horizon of one of the finest New York City's sunset. His brows were furrowed in deep thought, both due to being uncertain about a lot of things in his life and the other he figured he was yet to know.

It's been a long time coming, but his company was finally in a good place. He was ranked number three as being one of the youngest billionaires worldwide, had the most beautiful woman in his arms… but something still felt wrong. Or rather, he deemed, incomplete.

It was a familiar feeling that he knew how to bury in order to easily avoid, it was just that the particular day was rather empty and awfully melancholic of some sorts. He was frustrated at himself for allowing his mind to drift to that particular moment that had all but ruined his own thoughts ever since.

He glanced at the ticking clock on the wall and remembered he had an engagement dinner to attend later that evening albeit felt no inclination to get moving. The reason, one he didn't want to admit, was due to the fact that today marked the third year since _that_ tragic thing he witnessed happened.

It was yet to leave his mind, and it seems that the sight and the aftermath of it all will forever be etched in his memory. Three years, yet he found no closure or whatsoever with what had taken place.

Deep down he knew he had nothing to do with it. He didn't even know who she was. But stupid as it may seem, he always made himself believe otherwise. Perhaps it was just a bad dream that's trying to mess with his head, but every day that he walks the 24th floor of The Salvatore Hotel, he sees it all happening again.

The brand new railings at the end of the previously shattered glass proved it all to be true too.

He wished, how utterly he wished such a thing could easily be forgotten, but by all the Gods, how hard it was—_is_. To this day, her ghostly smile and golden locks haunted him and he wondered if there was ever a day when he would be rid of such a horrible thing.

The vibrating cellular device in his right pocket shook him from his down thoughts. He glanced at the caller ID, the name of his fiancée and her picture flashing on the screen. He slipped it back in its original place and threw his million dollar charcoal coat back on, deciding that the only way to forget about it all was to just get the night over with.

He reached the restaurant half an hour later which only meant he was about a full hour late to the actual party. His family had greeted him upon arriving and although he was glad to see them (as always); he was in no mood to listen to their endless remarks about being punctual. Nobody knew how tough this particular day was for him. Nobody did.

He had all but pleaded his fiancée not to hold the party at this date, but she had insisted and after having a couple of passionate throes in bed, he had finally relented.

'Did you eat anything sour, Nik?' Henrik teased, swirling the golden fork around the linguini he ordered. 'You've been scowling since you arrived.'

'Nothing that concerns you,' he snapped.

Rebekah slapped the back of his head and he glared at her, warning her to stop with the unnecessary childish reactions. 'Sister.'

'Brother,' she mocked.

'Take a chill pill, Klaus,' Kol rolled his eyes, downing his sixth glass of Scotch. 'It's your engagement party after all.'

Elijah nodded from across him, giving him a pointed look. 'It would do you well if you sat next to your lovely fiancée and save her from our mother's endless subtly undermining remarks.'

He smirked at that, glancing at the aforementioned scene at the end of the table. 'Tatia actually gets along with our mother, dear brother, unlike _your_ wife.'

'Shut it, Klaus,' said Katherine with a pout as she poked the greens on her plate. 'What is the big deal anyway? Aren't you happy in your relationship? Do you want to back off on your commitment? Is the sex not any good? Come on, _spill._'

'Katherine,' Elijah admonished, ignoring the sheepish look his wife gave him.

'Not that it's any of your business, Katherine, but I have no quarrels with Tatia,' he scoffed. 'I wouldn't be here if I wasn't.'

'Then why don't you start acting like it?' Rebekah sneered as she pointed at the Bulgarian model with her spoon. 'I mean I know she loves mother, but we all know no one would want to be subjected to that kind of torture.'

He laughed, thoroughly amused by his siblings' endless faux analysis on the situation currently presented before them. True as it may have been that their mother was the most cunning person to have ever been born on the face of the planet, his lovely fiancée was more than capable of putting her in her place. Ever since he had introduced her to Esther, the woman had always openly praised her and would even point blank talk about how his son was dating a beautiful model to her fellow socialites.

Not like it mattered whether she got along with his future wife, but it was a good sign all in all.

'Relax' their oldest brother interrupted, cutting in the conversation as he sat down next to his wife and handed her their youngest who was calling out for his mother. 'They have a lot more in common than one would presume.'

Sage agreed, rocking the bundle in her arms. 'They always have their own world during Esther's tea parties.'

Katherine and Rebekah who for the life of them never attended that weekend event both excused themselves from the table to fetch their own drinks.

He grinned smugly at the rest of his family, somehow all the grim thoughts he had earlier were shortly forgotten in the midst of his ever nosey family.

Half an hour later and the restaurant that had been closed off specially to cater to this event were packed with their closest family, friends and his mother's endless list of friends. He had even spotted the Governor's wife having a chat with her a few minutes ago and was unable to help the smirk that spread across his face.

Unlike earlier, he too, was finally in the mood and has finally lightened up after about three glasses of champagne. He was leaning against the sleek mahogany bar counter when his best friend arrived, bumping his glass against his as they started an easygoing conversation.

'Elena Gilbert,' he repeated. 'I've heard of her. Well, pray tell as how you met such an innocent girl.'

Damon laughed. 'We just met at one of my mother's art auctions and hit it off. She's taking her masters at NYU.'

'Well, let's see if she's the one that gets you tied down,' he raised a brow. 'A college girl. Isn't that the dream?'

'You're engaged to a model,' Damon countered. 'You tell me.'

'Touché,' Kol squeezed between them, emptying his glass of bourbon. 'I bet half a million of my trust fund that Damon's tying the knot with said college girl.'

'It's not a matter of if but when,' he corrected. 'I'll deck the cards in the next year.'

The young Mikaelson contemplated for a moment before nodding, shaking his hand. 'I'll go for this year then since the stakes are high. Half a million and one Tatia's model friends.'

He shrugged. 'When I win, you will donate two million to one of the charities I sponsor.'

'If,' Kol winked.

Damon scowled at the both of them, pushing Kol away. 'Stop making economic-related bets on my love life.'

Kol decided their conversation got boring after a while and went to find their youngest sister, claiming that he needed at least someone else to annoy in order to get by.

'On to more pressing matters,' Damon rolled his eyes, snapping his fingers as he tried to get the attention of the bartender. 'My mother was rather displeased that you didn't attend her art auction.'

'I was in Shanghai,' he recalled the incident and remembered telling his erratic assistant to inform his best friend about the sudden change of plans but she had apparently failed to do so. Not like it was anything new.

He'd be sure to fire her the coming days.

'Closing another business deal?' Damon winced, sticking out his tongue at the unfamiliar taste of the drink he got. 'Next.'

The man behind the counter nodded, smirking as he went on to brew another alcoholic concoction.

'Closed,' he said proudly. 'Done. Let Maria know that I'll be bidding on the next one.'

Damon shook his head, waving him off. 'It would be better if she had one of your own works up for auction but we all know you've given up on that.'

Klaus took the glass Damon had ordered and drank it in one go, ignoring the look his best friend gave him. 'There's hope yet.'

Damon smirked. 'I wonder when the day will come.'

* * *

Every Tuesday afternoon was spent of the same beige couch for the last year. She knew the piece of furniture like the back of her hand; although she deemed that in itself was quite the paradox considering she knew not much, figuratively speaking or so.

She was seated across a stunning woman, whom despite her old age remained to look as sophisticated as those women in black and white Hollywood movies she watched in the hospital bed.

'How was your day?' She asked, turning the dial on the little white timer and placing it on the glass coffee table between them.

'Okay,' was all she could come up with.

It was the honest to God truth and the only thing she could really tell her to explain how her day had gone. She knew Grace wanted to know more and so she proceeded to elaborate, the very basics of their weekly meetings already sketched from start to finish in her cerebrum that was left intact despite the fall.

She explained every intricate detail of how her day began for the umpteenth time, continued on and on about how she was trying to find a part time job that was suggested private teacher and all the things she ate, what she watched on the television and how many people she spoke to.

'A job?' Grace crossed her legs, flipping her notebook open and scribbling down furiously. 'Do you think you'll be able to handle having a job?'

'I guess so,' she admitted. 'Not a hard job, of course. Maybe something to do with just helping out on a shop. Dr. Gilbert said I can't be too stressed.'

Maria nodded in understanding. 'He's afraid you're going to have an episode during work?'

She looked down, caught off guard by the question. Her episodes weren't harsh to say the least and were actually barely noticed by anyone at all, but there were times when it went out of hand and those were the ones she was afraid of having.

Flashes of certain things that had happened were all too much for her, but she had learned to cope with it slowly. She was yet to remember anything about herself, or how she got to where she was; who she is; where she's from… really, anything at all, but she got visions of people she's met and a few things like looking at herself in the mirror as a child wearing a pink dress and twirling ceaselessly.

Grace decided not to push the topic, flashing her an earnest smile. 'I'm sure you'll be okay.'

'What did Grayson tell you when you went to see him?'

'He said I'm coping fast, which is normal,' she furrowed her brows, trying to recall what her doctor said.

Having generalized amnesia meant you had to start all over again. She wasn't sure who would ever want to, considering the pain and all the hardship it caused every damn day. It was a lie, the things they showed on the television.

The only constant people in her life were the doctors she saw every Monday. Grace on Tuesdays, her private teacher on Wednesdays and support group on Thursdays. She wasn't sure about the support group because they were different every week.

Usually, in the soap operas and movies she watched, the person always had people; their family, a loved one, a best friend or just anyone by their side helping them through everything… but she had always been alone. She woke up in the hospital bed alone, been thrown as a charity case because no one paid her bills and so she could be helped. Hard as it was for anyone to know, but it was the truth, and the veracity was that she, despite the 8 billion people in the world… had no one.

She wasn't sure if it was the life she wanted but she felt as though she just wasn't cut out for it. She needed _more_.

'How is the convent treating you?'

'Kind,' she replied.

'Do you find yourself following the religion they teach?'

'They don't force it on me,' she shrugged. 'I don't think I was a religious person. I'm... I have no inclination towards it but I think it's something I have to do at the very least.'

'How so?' She cocked her head.

'Because they're paying you, the hospital bills, Camille, everyone trying to help me,' she scowled, hoping that didn't come out as her sounding rather ungrateful because if anything, it was the total opposite. 'They've been so nice and welcoming and it's the only thing I can do to repay them.'

'But it isn't what you want, Caroline,' Maria raised another perfect brow. 'Sister Frances found you then and she took you in out of the goodness of their hearts without expecting anything to be paid back. Although it may seem that way, you are not indebted to them at all.'

'I'm doing my best,' she breathed heavily, throwing her head back and closing her eyes in frustration. 'I'm really trying. I want to get a job… I want to remember… I just don't want to forget anymore.'

Grace gave her the same look she has always given her since the first time she arrived at her office: _pity_.

The sessions usually lasted for an hour. It used to be more than that but the convent could only afford so much. She walked the streets of Manhattan in a daze, feeling the blur of people passing and vehicles bustling slap her right across the face. It was always that way, making her feel rather overwhelmed and unable to breathe normally.

She rushed to the nearest alley to be rid of the swarming sea of people walking back and forth the city and pressed the palms of her hand against the cool maroon brick walls, trying to calm her nerves as she breathed in and out.

The convent was located in Brooklyn, so she had to take the subway to and fro because she didn't need to add the cab fare to the endless bills the monastery needed to tend to. Incapable of entering the underground tunnel during its packed hour, she always waited after it has passed and that day was no different.

There was a particular coffee shop one mile away from Grace's office that she spent her time in after their sessions trying to pass the time. It was quaint and barely had any visitors so it had been perfect for her…today however, she noticed that the café was closed and right in front in big bold letters was a sign plastered on the wall saying: UNDER RENOVATION.

She crossed the road to take a closer look and accidentally bumped into someone just as she was about to open the door and ask someone what was happening to the one place she found comfort in.

'I'm sorry, I didn't see you,' the gorgeous man who looked to be the same age as her apologized, flashing her a perfect smile. He let go of her hand that he had held to keep her from falling and gazed at her curiously. 'What can I help you with?'

'I was just…' She began, taking a step back and ignoring the way her heart started beating profusely upon encountering a good looking man. She barely talked to anyone let alone the opposite gender so it was really quite hard considering said guy was like the men she watched on the television and the Cosmopolitan magazines she snuck in her room in the convent. 'What's happening to the café?'

He raised a brow in amusement, taking off his white construction helmet to reveal his perfectly sculpted blonde hair. 'The café wasn't flourishing so it's being turned into a small intimate art gallery. You look like you were fond of that café, sad to say I never tried their coffee.'

'It wasn't the best, but it was different,' she explained with a shake of her head.

'I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name,' the stranger stopped her before she had the chance to cross the street once more.

'Caroline,' she relayed.

He held out his hand and she hesitantly shook it, mirroring the smile he gave her. 'Stefan Salvatore.'

* * *

'Thank you,' she whispered in his ear, placing a small kiss on the tip of his nose.

He placed his arms around her waist and pulled her body to his, sporting a lazy smirk. 'For what?'

She shrugged, biting her bottom lip seductively. 'For being here. I didn't think you'd come. I know you're having a bad day, Niklaus, but this really meant a lot to me and you being here just makes me want to get married to you sooner.'

'I wouldn't miss my own engagement party, Tatia,' he laughed, capturing her plump lips for a soft kiss. They were at it for a while and it was only when Damon cleared his throat to tell them he was leaving that broke them apart.

Tatia said she'll be back later after saying goodbye to a few people and he slapped her backside as she walked away, making her turn around and flash him a glare before strutting away with a smile on her face. True, his day had been horrible, but seeing the smile on her face was something that always made his day a tad bit better.

'Well, I don't want to cut the party short, but Stefan needs help,' Damon rolled his eyes at his best friend's lovey-dovey eyes. 'He's at the site at my mother's new art gallery and said a few things needed to be fixed, but tell me why I need to be there? I'm not a fucking architect. I'm a lawyer for fuck's sake.'

'That's just his way of saying he needs his brother,' Klaus teased. 'In all seriousness, however, maybe it has something to do with the lease. Things a lawyer like you handles.'

'Fair enough,' Damon grunted. 'Do you want to pass by and check it out? See if it's worth anything?'

'Is this your way of trying to make rethink about the whole painting thing?' He laughed, shaking his head.

'Come on, we'll just pass by, see what's up and head back,' Damon wiggled his brows. 'It's an art gallery. You love those things.'

Klaus considered it for a split second and decided it wouldn't be a bad thing. Damon was right in retrospect, and he had never passed an opportunity to visit Maria's art galleries unless he was really preoccupied by work. Not only were they intimate but it always held a sense of sophistication and simple beauty that couldn't really be explained. He knew it was because the woman was just as passionate as he was about what she did, and that was usually the key to success.

After endless promises on Damon's part to Tatia that they'd be back in thirty minutes, the two jumped in the Salvatore's sleek black Ferrari and drove off into the late New York traffic. Safe to say they wouldn't be reaching the restaurant under said span time.

It took a few honks and countless profanities on Damon's part to get to where his brother was situated, and the sight of what greeted them as they made a beeline for the empty parking space on the opposite side of the gallery had them both stopping mid-sentence,

Maybe his eyesight was fucking around, or maybe it was the four glasses of Scotch and three glasses of champagne, but there wasn't a day when he would forget that sweet smile and sparkling cerulean orbs. It was her. It was definitely her.

Her golden locks were replaced by a short pixie cut, one that he knew well because of Tatia and the various haircuts she's had the past few years, but the blonde looked no less beautiful. She seemed a little frail, albeit, confused and downcast but it was certainly without a doubt the same angel that haunted him since her fall three years ago.

'No,' Damon scoffed, blinking. 'That's bullshit.'

It was indeed, like the Salvatore had perfectly put it: _bullshit_.

* * *

Thank you for taking your time to review. Feedback is always appreciated. :-)


	3. Second Floor

_Chapter Two_

_05:30 – Second Floor_

* * *

'I'm sorry,' she shook her head profusely, her eyes wide with fear. He let go of her arm and took a step back, wanting to make sure she knew he wasn't going to harm her. 'I don't know who you are.'

His brows furrowed as he looked at her. There was no question that it was the same young woman, but how could she not have remembered him? Unless otherwise she was suffering from a mental condition, then it would make sense.

She wrapped her pale arms around herself, shielding herself from the strange man that all but ran across the street to catch up to her. He must have looked like some kind of psycho.

'No,' he shook his head. 'I apologize for… that. I didn't mean to alarm you; I just thought you were somebody I knew. Do you need a ride? It's quite late and a beau—girl can't walk the streets alone.'

He mentally berated himself for acting like a stupid teenager talking to his crush. He knew that wasn't the case, but he felt nervous around her, something he has never felt his whole life. He was a man that oozed confidence and there was not a day when he looked himself in the mirror and saw the man he didn't wish to be, so how was this strange girl making him feel like this?

He decided it was because of everything that had happened before and the endless flow of guilt in his system at the sight of her alive. Sure he should be happy the girl was alive, but he knew better.

Her light brows remained stuck together, clearly trying to figure him out. 'Do you know who I am?'

Well that was unexpected. He opened his mouth to say something only to come up with nothing. He didn't know her, not in any way she probably thought he did. All he knew was that she jumped from the 24th floor and had caused his best friend's family business quite the scandal for a few months.

He ignored the voice in his head telling him there was something more, opting instead to hand her his business card from the breast pocket of his suit. 'I think I know someone who does. Maybe we could have coffee sometime. I'll gladly bring my friend along, the one-'

She shook her head. 'I don't think that's a good idea.'

'You're suffering from amnesia, am I right?' He figured the obvious and saw her try to hide the shock on her face. 'I can read people very easily, it's nothing. I figured since… look, I don't really have time to spare right now so if ever you need a friend, just call me. Do you have a pen, love?'

She rummaged through her small messenger bag and gave him the ballpoint, an electric current passing through him as their hands brushed against one another. He huffed, unsure of what was going on himself as he wrote down his personal number on the back of the card.

He truly wanted to give her a ride home, knowing how the streets of Manhattan were at night but figured it would be too intrusive. Not only did he not have a car, but the fact that she was looking at him like a psycho killer was making it all seem very weird.

He took off his coat and tried to give it to her, not wanting to overstep his boundaries by putting it on her shoulder. 'It's late, you're shivering. The least I can offer you is this. Please take it.'

She sighed, giving him a defeated look. He didn't know why, but he felt a pang in his chest upon seeing such sadness radiate from someone like her.

'Thank you—'

'Klaus,' he filled in.

'Klaus,' she continued. 'But I'm okay. Thank you. You don't know how much this means to me, knowing that there's someone who knows who I was before everything. I just need some time… to process it all. Thank you.'

She smiled at him, the same damn smile she had all those years ago and he watched her until she rounded the corner and left his line of sight. He leaned against the cobblestone wall, taking a deep breath. Everything had just gone from perfect to zilch.

He knew his best friend and his brother were watching their little interaction and in just a matter of minutes would be there to interrogate him, so he allowed himself a small amount of time to replay what had just happened and wondered whether if he had done the right thing by giving her his number.

He knew there was more to it than what he had told her. Like it had been all those years ago, the same enigmatic feeling of wishing to know her still remained despite everything. She was magnetic and just full of _light_. He couldn't explain it, but she was a mystery he wanted to unravel… and hard as it may be to admit, a cost he was willing to take.

Like he had predicted, Damon and Stefan were beside him in a minute and like two hounding paparazzi's in the streets gave him a full blown Spanish Inquisition as they all took a seat on the concrete steps of one of the apartments lined outside downtown Manhattan.

'She has amnesia?' Damon repeated after he had finished telling them everything, leaving out of course the little personal details about himself that he too has yet to figure out.

He nodded, resting his arm on his knees and resting his head on the palm of his hands in frustration. 'She didn't deny it.'

'Can we sue her?' the eldest Salvatore asked again, and both him and Stefan gave him a look that would have made him twice as dead if looks could indeed kill. 'I'm just kidding, but she cost us a fortune… that's not something I take very lightly.'

'I didn't even know it was her,' Stefan laughed. 'She looked so confused and just out of it, I wasn't sure how to approach her.'

'I didn't even ask for her name,' Klaus sighed.

'Caroline,' Stefan informed him, standing up and brushing the small pebbles and dirt that gathered on the back of his jeans. 'She said her name was Caroline.'

It suited her, he supposed. A name just as be—_Enough_, he told himself angrily.

'Is the lease all you needed help with, brother?' Damon followed suit, shrugging his coat back on after patting the dirt away. 'If so, then Klaus and I need to get back to his engagement party unless he forgot he was getting married to a Bulgarian model and not some suicidal blonde.'

'Jesus Christ,' Stefan glared at his brother. 'You're an insensitive prick, you know that?'

'I've been called worse,' he smirked.

Klaus knew he was right though. He was getting married, and Caroline was nothing but a distant haunted memory of something that happened a long time ago. He forced himself to think the only reason as to why she wouldn't leave his mind was because he had been guilty of feeling helpless all those years ago.

What if he had saved her? What if he had said all the right things? Would they have ended up to—

_Enough._

'Tell Tatiana I went back to work because a few stocks were sold beyond my knowledge,' he told Damon, hailing the first cab that passed by. 'Don't mention what happened.'

He slid in the greasy taxi before the brothers could open their mouth to react and leaned his head back on the seat, exhaustion taking over his entire body.

'Where to, sir?'

'The closest bar you can find.'

* * *

Caroline crumpled the business card for the umpteenth time before straightening it out again and again and again. She's done it for about twenty times when her roommate, April, got back from her nighttime prayers and sat down next to her in her bed, glancing at the paper on her hand.

'Business card,' she deadpanned.

'You found a job?' April frowned.

She smiled at her friend, knowing the reason for the facial expression. She had told April that once she found a job, she would immediately move out of the convent to find a small but suitable apartment for herself and slowly earn back the money she had wiped out from the convent's account.

Her friend, who had grown up in the convent was quite sad and told her bluntly that although she prayed that Caroline got a job, she was wishing, as her friend, that she doesn't. April was one of the few friends she had and sure she would be sad to leave her, but she knew she didn't belong in the monastery.

'No, I found… someone from my past,' she said, watching April's eyes widen in shock. 'He approached me today and told me he knew me. It was embarrassing that I didn't know what to tell him, but he gave me his business card and said that if I needed a friend, I should call him.'

'But you don't,' the younger girl joked. 'You've got me.'

She nodded, messing up April's dark hair that was combed to perfection.

It was a lie though, because after the little incident by the sidewalk of downtown Manhattan, all she had wanted to do was find the nearest telephone booth and call him and ask him how he knew her, why is it that when he looked at her, she felt her breathing spiking up and her heart rate beating at an abnormal pace? She knew those were questions that she ought to keep to herself but found herself wishing she had at least some answers.

Nothing knew there, she supposed.

Shock had been her initial reaction when he approached her, seeing two good looking men in one day must've done a number to her blood pressure but soon after their somewhat conversation, she felt nervous and scared that she finally found someone who knew something about her.

It was a question she's asked every day since she woke up: who the hell was she? But she found herself suddenly afraid to know the answer to that one question.

She straightened out the paper again and inserted it in one of the pages of her hidden magazines, plopping down on the bed beside April with a sigh. 'I'm scared.'

'I'm sure you were a good person, Caroline,'

'If I was so good,' she started, blinking away the tears she felt brimming at the edge of her tear ducts. 'Why did I jump off a building?

…

Early morning before the sun even rose in the sky; Caroline would wake up and join the rest of the nuns in their early prayers. The woman who had found her and took her in (Sister Frances, what they called her) always taught her that the best way to deal with her problems was to kneel on the pew and confess everything to the heaven's above.

Of course she knew that didn't solve anything at all, but she always hoped that it would so everything in the world would just be right again. It wasn't that easy of course, not like it was in the movies anyways, so for the umpteenth time, she knelt beside the nuns, closed her eyes and prayed somebody was listening.

She didn't know how long she knelt there but by the time she was done, her legs felt like gelatin. She took a deep breath and sat down on the mahogany pew and looked at the altar, staring off into space. In her pocket was the number of the one man who could help her unlock her past but she was undoubtedly afraid of what she might find out.

It wasn't as easy as it used to seem now that she had a taste of it.

She pushed off the thoughts for now and decided to get a head start on the day. She needed to meet with her private teacher, today marking the last day of their meeting. Camille had asked for dinner afterwards and she had reluctantly agreed after the woman all but said that was the only way she could repay her.

Camille had grown up in the convent so her services were for free. Sister Frances had asked her to help Caroline back when she could barely utter a single word and they have come such a long way since. She truly didn't think she'd be where she was if it wasn't for the help of her teacher.

Before heading to Camille's house for their last teaching session, she had volunteered to help the Manhattan church choir. One of the things she found out she could do was sing and the nuns have always put her name around whenever they needed an extra voice.

So that's where she was, early Wednesday morning, practicing a gospel up until she heard a familiar voice that made her shiver in panic as another one of her horrible episodes took over.

* * *

Klaus slapped a hand over his eyes, trying to block the immense sunlight seeping through his dark blue satin curtains. He made a mental note to have that changed, considering it barely blocked any UV rays from entering his expansive room.

There were a lot of things he needed to do but felt himself unable to move and in no hurry to accomplish them. He had not forgotten what had happened last night, in fact, that was the reason as to why he had drowned himself in the cheapest alcohol in hopes that that would solve everything.

It hadn't, of course.

He groaned, flipping himself over so he could hide from the striking rays as he blindly searched for his phone. He peaked at the screen and found sixteen missed calls from Tatia, three from Elijah and one from Damon. He was expecting to see an unknown number but scolded himself for hoping the odds of that. Not only was she overwhelmed by what he had done, he had also most probably scared her off for good.

No matter, he deemed, life would go on whether he received a phone call from a blonde stranger anyway.

_Sure_, he told himself with a mental eye roll.

Sleep took over again and by the time he woke up, there was an incessant sound ringing around his billion dollar home. He shot up the bed in annoyance and pulled his boxers and ran downstairs to scold whoever it was trying to rid him of his golden alone time.

He opened the door harshly and glared at the man on the other side. 'What do you want, Greg?'

'Mr. Mikaelson, I wish you a pleasant morning,' he nodded, looking him up and down. 'Opening the door in that state is quite inappropriate, I wonder if I would get fired if I did the same for everyone who lived in this hotel.'

He rolled his eyes, not in the mood to have a chat with the aged doorman. 'I'm sure you have a job to get back to, so just tell me what you want.'

'Well, Mr. Mikaelson, during your drunken fit last night at the hotel lobby, you happened to mention seeing a Caroline, so I apologize if I am intruding in this current matter, but is it perhaps the same Caroline you were looking at with interest, and the one who has always entertained my jokes right before she committed suicide?'

He gestured for the gangly silver-haired man to come in and closed the door behind him as a sigh escaped his lips. Not only did he apparently get drunk but he had caused a scene too. If news broke out that he had skipped his own engagement dinner to wallow in alcohol, he wouldn't only face his family's wrath, but Tatiana's too.

'What do you mean drunken fit?' He raised a brow, leading the hotel employee to his living room and telling him to sit down. 'Did I cause a scene?'

'No, you just wouldn't stop mentioning her to me is all,' Greg elaborated. 'Please, Mr. Mikaelson, I haven't got much time to spare so tell me if I am right.'

'That would be the case,' he shrugged, plopping down on the leather armchair and throwing his head back in utter defeat. 'How do you even know her, Greg?'

'She visits—well, used to visit the hotel twice a week,' the man recalled, his thick brows furrowed in deep thought. 'She always seemed like a fleeting soul, Mr. Mikaelson. She would be there and then gone. The same day she had jumped off the building was when I suppose she found out the man she was visiting in this hotel vanished in thin air.'

'Who was he?'

'Her boyfriend, I suppose,' Greg shrugged dismissively. 'The first time I met Caroline, she was the happiest young woman I have ever seen. She radiated light and laughter and kindness just by walking past you but the longer I knew her, the more I began to notice how it all faded away and just ultimately disappear by that time.'

Klaus sat across the man, his riveting stories of the strange blonde that was endlessly running through his mind making him even more interested as to what… or rather, who she was.

'Tell me the name of her boyfriend,' he demanded.

'There's a strict hotel policy about that,' Greg raised a brow. 'I'm sure a man towering over Wall Street already knew that.'

He smirked at Greg's offhand compliment. 'My family is close friends with the owner of this hotel, Greg. You have nothing to worry about.'

'Sir, I've been working here since I was sixteen,' he smiled. 'And I have yet to break a single rule.'

He groaned inwardly, knowing there was nothing breaking through the man. Damon had told him that Greg has already been working for them back when he was just a little kid and it was apparently true. 'Well, I gave her my personal number and if she gets in touch, I'll let you know.'

'Please do, Mr. Mikaelson,' Greg stood up with a nod. 'I had considered her a friend and was devastated by what happened before and not knowing where she had disappeared to, if she had died… but I'm happy she's alive.'

'I hardly think she'd consider it though,' he muttered.

'And why is that?' Greg raised a grey brow.

'She's suffering from memory loss, if I already haven't mentioned it,' Klaus explained.

'Well, Mr. Mikaelson,' the older man stated. 'Miracles _do_ exist. I mean, when have you ever heard someone survive a 24 story fall?'

* * *

A/N: I apologize for the grammar mistakes and if I'm wrong about some things regarding Caroline's condition and what not. I'm just basing it all on what I've searched online.

Thanks again for reviewing. If you have anything you want me to add to the story or any character you'd like to see, feel free to tell me.


	4. Third Floor

Chapter 3 - Third Floor

* * *

_A few weeks later_

Clad in one of the most expensive tailored suits he owned, Klaus strode in the NYC skyline that is Mikaelson Enterprises for the sixth time of the day. His personal assistant, Vicky, rushed to his side looking rather confused and obviously exhausted from running across the street after spotting his town car pull up.

'Mr. Mikaelson, I didn't know you'd be back from your trip to Poland,' she huffed, running after him in her four-inched footwear. They entered the elevator together and he rolled his eyes as her shaky fingers pressed the last button on the pad.

'I emailed you the change of flight last night,' he scoffed.

'I was—I'm sorry Mr. Mikaelson, it won't happen again,' she sighed, slapping a hand over her sweltering forehead.

He smirked at the knowledge that the building maintained a cool temperature, so he was certainly the cause of the spike in her temperature. They reached their desired floor in no time and soon as the doors opened breezed past her and stepped right in front of the encased glass, not giving her a chance to take another step.

'I know it won't happen again, Ms. Donovan,' he shoved his hands in the pocket of his navy blue pants and flashed her a sardonic smile. 'Because you're fired. See yourself out.'

He turned his back on her, uncaring whether she was on the verge of tears or whatsoever it was he saw flicker on her face. Damon would commend him for finally firing the girl his fiancée had recommended as an assistant. She had never been suitable for the job anyway, and although he knew Tatia would blabber on and on about how they were close friends and how Vicky needed a job because she got fired for always being high as a model, he couldn't have cared any less.

He had been patient with her back then and even showed her what little kindness he had, and well, if she thought she could take that for granted, well she was certainly wrong.

It was three in the afternoon as he was idly scrolling through his mail when he heard the steps of familiar bulky heels inching closer towards his office. He knew who it was instantaneously because what followed it was the sound of his best friend pleading in what sounded like: _'Please, mom, you're acting like a weirdo.'_

Soon enough, Maria appeared by the doorway of his office clad in a maroon knee-length dress, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders and the same infamous moon shaped glasses of hers perched on top of her pointed nose. Damon showed up a few seconds later in an Armani suit, greeting him with an eye roll and a dramatic gesture towards his mother.

'To what do I owe the pleasure?' He pushed himself off the swivel chair and made his way towards his Godmother, giving her a kiss on the cheeks. A thing they were all accustomed to do with each other's mothers.

'I heard you were snooping around my hotel, son,' she raised a pointed brow as she sat down on the white leather couch adjacent his crystal table. 'I'm fond of you, Niklaus and I love you like my own, but this is not something I tolerate.'

He glared at Damon. He never knew when to keep his mouth shut.

Snooping around isn't what he'd exactly call it. All he was doing was asking around the hotel about the residents of floor number 24 and paid a few men to find out as much as they could about the residents of the hotel in the last three years. He silently cursed the hotel doorman who had warned him about facing the female Salvatore if she ever found out one of those men he hired harassed the security guard of the hotel and threatened to end his life.

He laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head as he glanced at Damon in annoyance and gave him a look that said: _you had to open your big fucking mouth._

'You're looking at the wrong son,' Maria chuckled. 'Now why don't you two tell me what is going on.'

'It's nothing, I swear,' Damon waved his hand dismissively. 'Klaus was just feeling like a detective and decided to snoop around but he's over it now. He went to Poland and came back a changed man.'

He wouldn't have been doing all of those things if she had just called him, but it's been exactly five weeks later and he has yet to receive an anonymous phone call. Greg and he had even drove to where he had found her during the old man's afterhours but came up with nothing.

The only reason the younger Salvatore knew about it too was because he had asked Damon to tell his brother to call him if he ever saw her again, but alas, Stefan always called with empty news.

'I won't press the matter at the moment,' Maria stood up and narrowed her eyes at him. .'But the next time I hear another one of your people straining my employees, you two—rather, three with Stefan included—will hear the end of this from Esther and we both know that she is even worse than me. Got it?'

Both he and Damon nodded like children being offered the finest candies available.

'Now, Mikaelson, treat my son and I for a late lunch, why don't you?' Maria flashed him a smile, patting his chest. 'It's the least you could do after taking up my precious time away from my art gallery.'

'I know just the place,' Damon wiggled his brows, earning a light slap on his arm from his mother.

He shook his head at the woman in amusement but found himself unable to say no. He grabbed his coat from the back of his chair and followed them to the elevator, listening to his Godmother talk about art that he was reminded as to where his talents, passion and love for it came from.

As it turns out, the restaurant Damon lead them to was recently opened by one of their old college buddies. They haven't heard from the positively incessant man in a long time, so it was a shock to him to find out that their friend who had slacked off during their days back then now owned two chains of restaurants.

_Marcel's_ is what it was called, named after the ever so modest man himself.

'How did you even find this place?' He asked Damon just as soon as the waiter finished taking their orders. 'It's not exactly a place you see while driving or walking down uptown Manhattan.'

'Elena said she visited a restaurant often and so we went once and I thought it was just a coincidence how everything reminded me of New Orleans, but then I saw a picture of the three of us in that fair back in his hometown wearing nothing but jeans and cowboy hats and it all clicked.'

He grimaced at the memory. Marcel had asked them to join him on his road trip to New Orleans back then and although it had been an amazing experience, he had been drunk and only remembered sleeping with three different girls during his weekend visit.

'This Marcel you talk of,' Maria began, taking a sip of the glass of water she ordered. 'Is he the one that Klaus best during his fencing tournament?'

Klaus laughed at his Godmother's vivid memory. 'That would be the one.'

'The same one who Klaus and I bullied during our first year after he punched Stefan,' Damon grinned as they reminisced their college years together. Marcel back then had been a pain in the ass, but nevertheless their friend too.

'Why have you lost touch with this man?' the raven-haired woman asked, scrolling through her digital planner. Maria was the definition of multitasking. She could be reading a book whilst talking to you and still tell you what was going on in said book. She was probably some kind of a witch or some supernatural voodoo lady.

Damon shrugged as he answered for the both of them. 'We lost contact when we graduated. We didn't exactly grow up together, nor was his mother our Godmothers.'

Another reason as to why they had stopped ultimately talking to Marcel was also because of how busy their lives have been upon graduating. He had went and built his company and Damon was in court twenty four hours a day and although they had tried to squeeze in time for their college friends, it hadn't really been an option with all the endless workload they were piled under.

The fact that they had a fight back then wasn't also lost on him. Marcel had called them a bunch of _working buffoons controlled by money_ and sure there was some truth in his words, but if it wasn't for that, then they wouldn't be where they were today. Him with the Mega Corporation and Damon as one of the best lawyers in the state.

It wasn't only his fault though, because he had also told Marcel things that he hadn't meant back then, but what had nailed the coffin was when the Salvatore called him a poor bastard that only took English Literature as a course because it was literally all he could afford.

They had never looked back on that incident up until now of course so it was safe to say that upon hearing that there was a portrait of the three of them hanging in his restaurant gave him a slight hope on rekindling that friendship.

'Well, well, well,' a familiar voice said, surprising all the three people that sat on the sixth booth at the restaurant. 'Look what the cat dragged in.'

* * *

'Don't blink,'

Caroline followed his order, flaring her eyes as her doctor took a look at her retinas with his handy flashlight. It was the sixth time he had done that since she was rushed to the hospital five weeks ago after one of those scary episodes that happened.

There were two types of panic attack. The first one was when her chest would tighten and she would find it hard to breathe but she knew how to overcome those. Dr. Gilbert said she only needed to take a deep breath ten times and count to five and it would be okay and he was right.

The second was when the world begins to spin and she loses consciousness, but that wasn't until the end of looking like a complete violent fool because she forgot where she was and what she was doing. The longest one lasted in just two minutes up until the one she had at church which apparently took five minutes maximum.

'It's okay now, Caroline,' Dr. Grayson announced, switching the small device off and handing it to the nurse beside him. 'You'll be released tomorrow but I suggest you take it easy… I know you're looking for a job but at this rate I'm not so sure if it's a good thing anymore. There's something we haven't figured out and we have to wait for your results to determine the new medicines I will prescribe.'

She nodded patiently and waited for him and the rest of the nurses to leave before letting the waterworks she's been holding in finally erupt. He had said everything; every single process they had made regarding her mental condition had been swept under the rug after her recent incident.

They thought she had been doing well but there was a nerve in her brain that was still unable to function and was the epitome of what created her perceptual breakdowns. He had asked her what had caused the last one so they could prevent it from happening and worsening her condition but the thing was that she didn't… couldn't… much as she tried remember how it was triggered.

Caroline flipped on her side and grumbled in defeat. One of the worst parts about being confined in the hospital for weeks was that nobody visited her. The nuns back at the convent had better things to do and April wasn't allowed to go out on her own.

She heard one of the older nurses say she had a visit while she was asleep and figured it was Camille after seeing a book wrapped in a red bow on the bedside table.

She completely felt desolate and just simply spent. She didn't know how anyone can live all alone and be content. Her mind and thoughts suffocated her that every time she got in too deep, she would feel her chest tightening signaling another small attack. It was just all too overwhelming.

As she came down from her breakdown, one of the few nurses she saw every time she visited for her checkup slipped into her room. The dark girl wore pink scrubs unlike the older nurses earlier and gave her a genuine smile as she waved the clipboard she was holding around the air in a comical manner.

'Hi, Caroline,' she pulled the silver cart carrying all her medical equipment closer to the hospital bed, the jovial expression on her face never faltering. 'I'm Bonnie and I'm here to take note of your vitals.'

Caroline nodded and hoped she didn't look like she had cried her whole eyes out. Bonnie wrapped the blue fabric around her arms and began humming a tune to fill the quiet atmosphere. Her brows furrowed in deep concentration at the sudden awareness she felt at the sound leaving the nurse's lips.

She couldn't quite place it, but she knew she's heard it before… way before.

'Bonnie,' her eyes widened at the revelation. 'I-I know this song!'

Bonnie smiled at her, not the reaction she was hoping for to be honest. 'Caroline, I'm sure you've heard this song on the radio or something…It has nothing to do with-'

'I don't listen to the radio, Bonnie,' she shook her head adamantly. 'I know this song. I feel like I _loved_ this song.'

Bonnie nodded, finally taking her point of view in to consideration. Sure, it may have been just something small and not really medically relevant, but the fact that she felt something akin to familiarity towards a certain thing or whatnot just made her day a lot better.

'What else do you feel? I mean, do you remember when you heard this song or the particular moment you were listening to it?' Bonnie placed her hand on her hip. 'If I tell Dr. Grayson that you knew a song, he's just going to shrug it off but maybe if you can fill in the gaps… he might take that as a sign of progress.'

She scowled. 'I just… I just know that I've heard of it.'

'I'm sorry, Caroline, it's probably just a song you heard off the streets,' the nurse sighed sadly. 'I know things aren't looking really bright right now but it's going to be okay.'

Caroline wanted to scream or just violently react to what Bonnie was telling her because she knew she wasn't overreacting but she knew it would just lead to her being thrown to some psychiatric ward of some sort.

Maybe Bonnie was right, maybe she did have a point, but the difference was that she had a connection to the song… it's like it was a part of a memory that she had valued before everything that happened and if they weren't going to try and listen to her, then maybe she was looking for help in all the wrong places and in the wrong people.

* * *

A/N: This is just a short filler. I'm researching a lot and trying to process my ideas for this story and I'm not having the best of time. Thank you for the reviews, I appreciate it a lot! Next chapter will have a Klaroline interaction again and hopefully one that I can publish this coming week. If you have any ideas, anyone or anything you want me to add, feel free to tell me.


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